


A Tale of Two Captains

by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Cameos, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Gay, Implied/Referenced Sex, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, LGBTQ Character, Light Bondage, M/M, Ocean, One Shot, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarkeStetler/pseuds/ClarkeStetler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goosenik/pseuds/Goosenik
Summary: Charles Xavier had wanted to be on the ocean as far back as he could remember. He could remember toddling toward the shipyards as an infant, being snatched away by scolding parents just before he could touch the gleaming vessels. As he grew older, his attention never wavered from the prospect of living life on the seas.At twenty-one years of age, Charles and his ship had its first run-in with pirates, and he saw fit to protect his title and vessel as fiercely as he knew how.Aka: a one-shot of Erik the pirate trying to ransom Charles the captain, but finding that Charles is a little hard not to get attached to.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 28
Kudos: 145





	A Tale of Two Captains

Charles Xavier had wanted to be on the ocean as far back as he could remember. He could remember toddling toward the shipyards as an infant, being snatched away by scolding parents just before he could touch the gleaming vessels. As he grew older, his attention never wavered from the prospect of living life on the seas. Science was fascinating, and literature was addictive, but nothing called to him the way the ocean did at night, singing like a siren to lure him from his bed.

By eight, he was sneaking out of his bed after dark to run down the pier, whispering the names of the boats as he passed each one. He’d stop at the end, sit on the edge of the dock, and stare out at the water. It gleamed black and white like rough gemstones in the moonlight, unending darkness stretching out before him, and he knew that he’d never love anything the way he loved it. 

At ten, he had already started hiding away coins and gems, making a small bank with which he could someday purchase his own vessel. He hid it in the small space below the house, a secure enough spot being that only he was skinny and small enough to squirm his way in. His mother could, perhaps, but she’d never sully her dress by getting down in the mud.

At thirteen, he was stealing away at night with fresh purpose, maps and manuscripts tucked under slender arms as he darted away from his estate and down to the docks. He would climb silently onto the nearest ship, perch himself up on a rigging or mast or crow’s nest, and would read by moonlight and a single flickering candle for hours, memorizing constellations and landscapes, charts that he shut his eyes and pictured following.

At fifteen, he was bribing the sailors after educational lessons with Bernard, his schoolmaster, had ended. The sailors taught him to tie knots, labelled the pieces of the ships that Charles hadn’t been able to find names for in his books, and educated him on the slang that they informed him that he would need to know if he were ever to abandon his wealth and comfort in exchange for living a rough life on a deck. They laughed and scoffed at the notion, but Charles dedicated himself to their teachings all the same, ignoring their doubt.

At seventeen, he ran away from his life. He gave Raven, his favorite waitress at the dock bar, a kiss on the cheek before he left.

“What are we supposed to tell your parents?” She sputtered, staring at him.

“Tell them I was kidnapped by pirates,” Charles volunteered, whimsically and brightly, excitement pounding through his veins like opium. He gave Hank, his favorite dock worker, a kiss on the lips and grinned at him, leaving his hands on the other boy’s cheeks. “Tell them I was lost at sea!” He released him, backing up toward  _ The Marie _ . “Tell them anything! Goodbye, darlings!”

“Charles!” Hank shouted after him, wincing and lowering his tone when Raven punched him in the stomach to quiet him down. “Charles, you’re the heir-”

“-To the  _ sea _ ,” Charles informed him, eyes gleaming and heart thundering in his chest. “I’m gone, good fellows! If you need me, I’ll be over the horizon.” He saluted, and then he was gone, running up and over the edge of the ship that was waiting for him.

He held the bag with his seven year’s worth of savings close to his body, hid within it the ring that signified that he was, in fact, the heir to the Lordship of Westchester, and used some of the money to pay off the crew enough to take him far from Westchester. He agreed heartily and cheerfully to do the work required of a crewmate, but before doing so, demanded that he be able to watch the sunrise.

The sun climbed over the ocean’s rim, spilling reds and golds and blues onto the black waters as they pulled away from the Westchester docks. He wasn’t sure if it was fact or imagination, hearing the shouting coming from the estate house up on the hill, but none of that mattered compared to the lights and colors in the water before him. He had never, not in his entire life, felt so alive.

At nineteen years of age, Charles was awarded the position of First Mate on  _ The Cerebras _ . He had spent two years with the ship and the pride that thrummed through him at the promotion was nearly as heady as the high from running from his home had been.

At twenty years of age, Charles’ captain earned a place under a different contract and allowed Charles to take the title of captain instead. Charles chose young Alex Summers as his own First Mate and knew that Alex would take it as seriously as he once had himself. He walked the deck of his ship—  _ truly _ his ship for the first time-- and spent the next twenty-four hours memorizing every crack, every buff, every mark and knot on her surface. It was no longer custom for a captain to sink with his ship, but in that moment, he swore to himself and her that he would, if ever that day came.

At twenty-one years of age, Charles and his ship had its first run-in with pirates, and he saw fit to protect his title and vessel as fiercely as he knew how.

* * *

* * *

Everything was, as usual, going according to plan for Captain Erik Lensherr. 

He was the most active and definitely the most dangerous pirate in the upper peninsula, feared by all. Even his name was enough to create so much panic that there were known to be at least three other ships using his name in hopes that the crews they tried to overtake would give everything up the first time they heard who they were going against. It didn’t bother Erik- he knew that things like that worked themselves out eventually. As long as they didn’t fail or make his name foolish, he wouldn’t bother himself about things like that.

He strode across the deck, considering the people scattered across the boards, both his and the other ship’s crew. Most of them were giving up willingly to his men and were being tied up to allow for an easier time transferring the cargo. Their cowardice wasn’t unusual-- most people gave up, to be honest. People tended to want to escape with their lives, rather than facing off against vicious pirates. He would subdue the crew of the opposing ship, take what they wanted from the hold, and almost everyone would continue on with their lives, uninterrupted. 

There were, however, always exceptions to the rule.

A commotion started to his left and he looked around, irritated at the continuance of resistance, but felt himself stop as he met large blue eyes in a freckled face beneath dark, curly hair. The man had blue eyes, a bloody nose, and weighed almost nothing, but he was still fighting with everything he had. It felt like Erik had been punched in the chest, like he’d had all the wind knocked from him. He had never seen eyes like that, so clear and bright and gorgeous, and the anger that made those eyes flash was beautiful as he yelled incoherent words around the hands that were restraining him.

He was going to hurt himself, if he didn’t stop. If the men didn’t let him go.

“Stop,” Erik barked, and his crew dropped the man to the ground. The man took the opportunity to lash out, landing a hit squarely between Janos’ legs, and then flipped himself back to his feet as Janos staggered backwards and Azazel snatched the sailor’s arm.

“Get your hand off me, and get the  _ fuck _ off my ship!” he snarled, blue eyes blazing as he ripped his arm free and used the momentum to sink a surprisingly solid punch into Azazel’s eye. “Bloody  _ pirates _ ,” he growled, reaching for the sword at his hip, and Janos aimed a kick at the back of the sailor’s legs that knocked him to the ground, flat on his back.

Azazel placed a foot on his chest, a pistol in hand, looking  _ extremely _ put-out, but looked to his captain for permission before acting further. The blue-eyed sailor followed Azazel’s gaze and focused fully on Erik for the first time, pinning him briefly in place with the intensity of his attention.

God, but he was gorgeous. Erik tilted his head, moving forward slowly and placing his sword beneath the sailor’s jaw, tilting his face up with the tip slightly.  _ Pretty.  _ His anger just made him more attractive- a fierce little lion defending his territory. “Hello,” he said, touching Azazel’s hand to keep his gun off the pretty sailor’s face. “This is  _ your  _ ship, is it?”

“And if you touch her, you will regret it.” His eyes flashed and his teeth ground together. “Get  _ off _ her. And me.” His hand raised, curling around the tip of the sword at his throat, hand barely protected from the blade by the fingerless leather glove it was wrapped in.

“Is that so?” Erik raised an eyebrow, interest flaring. “If you’re the captain, where’s your coat? Your hat? Any of the trimmings?” He didn’t move the sword, not particularly wanting to damage the blue-eyed man. “How do I know you’re not some sailor and your captain isn’t hiding somewhere like the rat he is?”

“Why would my crew require specialized clothing to recognize their own captain?” He frowned up at Erik, looking somewhat bewildered despite the situation.

Erik raised an eyebrow, fighting a sudden smile, and considered. “We’re taking your cargo,” he said, tracing a line along the other man’s jaw with the tip of his sword, “And then, you can-”

“Captain,” Janos interrupted as he staggered back to his feet, his face still somewhat blotchy. “We found something in the captain’s quarters.” He pulled a letter out of his pocket and held it out. The blue-eyed captain stilled, watching the two of them warily, and Erik took it in interest, skimming the letter.

It was a notice for a reward of the safe return of ‘Charles Francis Xavier,’ a young scion of society who had gone missing four years prior. Erik vaguely remembered hearing a fuss about it-- no one knew if pirates had indeed taken him, if he’d been casually murdered and his body hidden, or if he’d run off with some bar wench he’d knocked up. Erik hadn’t known there was a reward for the boy then, but the sum at the bottom of the page was impossible to ignore.

It was enough to buy an entirely new ship.

“And,” Janos said, and tossed him a metal ring. Erik caught it deftly and turned it over, fingers tracing the sigil there, the X bold and clear on top of the coat of arms, matching the crest that marked the top of the reward notice.

“Well, look what we have  _ here.”  _ Erik grinned and rolled the notice up, slipping it in the ring into his inside pocket of his jacket. “All right, listen up. Let’s put the captain in his new quarters on the main deck. The main mast should be roomy enough, I would think.” He stepped back as his men hauled him up and a blonde boy, younger than the captain, lunged forward, scooting the pirates holding him forward a little with the sheer force of his anger.

“Leave him  _ alone,  _ you pieces of shit!”

“And  _ he  _ gets to go to the brig, along with the rest of the crew.” Erik gestured. “We’ll keep the ship and split our crew- nothing wrong with having two ships.” He had always wanted a small fleet. He could imagine them sailing the seas, coming up upon a British warship and flanking it with  _ both  _ ships, pirates pouring from each side, the British completely helpless.

The man-  _ Charles _ , if the paper was to be believed- took more offense to this action than to having been thrown to the ground. He lunged to his feet, Azazel barely grabbing him in time to stop him from connecting with his new captain, and snarled at Erik. “You bring this ship and her crew  _ anywhere _ near Westchester and I will throw myself overboard,” he growled, locking eyes with him. “Good luck getting your reward then. You will take the goddamn cargo, put it on your ship, and leave my crew on  _ Cerebras _ , or you’ll be shit out of luck with that money.”

God, he was so fucking gorgeous when he was that angry, his eyes sparking, hair flying everywhere, voice and accent deepening. Erik looked back at him impassively, keeping these thoughts off his face. It wouldn’t do to allow a captive to know he found them attractive. “Oh yes,” Erik said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll leave your crew and they will just happily go away. Especially your first mate.” He gestured to the boy who was struggling even now. “I’m not stupid,  _ Captain Xavier.  _ Or is it Sir Xavier?” He glanced at the paper.

“He will listen to me.” Xavier stared up at him, breathing hard, and Erik eyed him. “They will burn her down if you take her anywhere near there. I swear to God, I will throw myself overboard or stab myself through the chest before I let you take her or my crew to that town.”

Heat crept over Erik’s skin as he looked back at the little captain, so light and strong and so fiercely angry and protective. Idly, in the daftest part of his mind, he wondered what it would be like to earn that kind of protectiveness, and wondered if the freckles on the young captain’s skin continued all the way down his chest and back.

“Fine,” he said, when he trusted his voice not to betray just how attractive he found Charles Xavier. “The captain comes with us, the ship goes free- we need him more than we need her. You have been promoted, Blondie. If we catch you anywhere near us or trying to follow us, we will catch you, slaughter everyone on board, and burn the thing to the hull.”

Not really- he could get more out of the men on any island that still wanted strong and healthy men for any reason, and the ship itself was a good model and would sell very well on its own. He wasn’t a wastrel. But it was a good threat nonetheless.

Xavier inclined his head, then pulled himself free of Azazel roughly. He glared up violently at Erik’s quartermaster, then crossed the deck to where the blonde boy was tied up. He crouched beside him, pulling off the gag that Tannen had just finished tying. “Alex, take the ship and go back to our usual port,” he ordered, focusing on his first mate. “I’ll find you when I can.”

“We’ll get you back from there,” Alex promised, spitting a curse at one of Erik’s crewmen as he stepped forward, almost vibrating with anger and a kind of worry that spoke to the loyalty that Xavier had earned from his men. “We’ll get you back, we won’t leave you there.”

“No, you will wait for me.” Xavier’s voice was hard as flint. “I don’t want any of you near Westchester, and so help me, if I see my ship on that horizon, you will be a cabin boy for the rest of your days. The pirates won’t kill me because they need paid, and I’ll be able to barter voyage on a boat once I’m dropped there. You will wait in our port for me and you will keep our crew and my ship safe. Is that understood?”

Alex seemed to struggle with this internally, then nodded, looking away. “Yes, sir,” he said unhappily. “We’ll wait there as long as we need to.”

Xavier gave a short nod, setting a small knife to balance on Alex’s knee, then stood and returned to the side of the deck that the pirates were standing on, brushing sharply past Erik. “On we go, then,” Xavier said, giving him a defiant sort of look as Azazel grabbed his arm again and led him toward the plank to cross ships. “It’ll take you at least a week to get there on this hunk of wood.”

“Hunk of wood?” Erik narrowed his eyes at him. “The  _ Magneto  _ is one of the fastest ships the Italians have ever built, thank you.”

“Magneto.” Xavier snorted. “ _ Italian _ craftsmanship, that certainly explains a fair bit.” He stepped onto the deck, shoulders rolled back and chin high as he surveyed the ship around him. “Hm.”

Erik bit down the annoyance that accompanied the sight of his captive’s arrogance and nodded to Azazel, who led the young lord to a mast and set to work tying him up. Xavier watched his own ship silently, allowing this, and didn’t look away until  _ Cerebras _ was sailing in the opposite direction from them.

********************************************

“He’s been quiet,” Azazel reported at the doorframe of Erik’s quarters, drawing his attention away from the large emerald that they had taken from Xavier’s ship. “Hasn’t bothered trying to untie his ropes, hasn’t complained. Janos offered him a potato. He didn’t eat it.” He rolled his eyes. “The others are asleep.”

“Hm.” Erik put down the emerald and stretched. “I was planning on taking my shift on deck here soon anyway, if you want to sleep. I can see what the problem is.”

“The problem is probably that he’s a captive on a pirate ship,” Azazel informed him dryly, pushing off the doorframe. “But feel free to try. I’ll be below deck, if you need me.”

“Impertinence,” Erik informed him with a raised eyebrow. Azazel flashed a sharp-toothed grin and Erik headed out of his cabin and up to the deck, inhaling the air for a moment and just enjoying being above. It never got old, coming up from below at night with the stars up above and the sea like black glass around them. 

Xavier was no longer tied to his post in the center of the ship, Erik saw as he glanced over at the mast. The ropes lay abandoned in his place. When Erik looked around, however, he found Xavier sitting, perched on the railing of the deck delicately, balanced like a bird as he watched the water.

Strange man.  _ Talented  _ man, really, Erik thought, reluctantly impressed. He moved forward and leaned back against the railing, a little distance from his captive. Far enough that he would see an attack coming. “You’re very talented,” Erik said with a smile. “Can you get out of most bindings?” He tried to ignore the interest in the question.

Xavier’s answering smile was slow and wide, almost teasing, but he didn’t turn his head to Erik, who tried  _ very  _ hard not to read too much into the reaction. “Depends on the context,” he offered silkily, rolling the words across his tongue as he grinned at the water, and Erik let his thoughts wander slightly into dangerous territory. “How long have you been a pirate?”

“A long time.” Erik shrugged, marshalling his thoughts away from the idea of ropes and ties, away from that smile, away from the way Xavier’s eyes lit when he grinned like that. The man was a _captive,_ not a guest on the ship. Things were different. “I’ve been a pirate most of my life, I’ve had my own ship for five years now.”

“Five years. Always this one?” Xavier’s leg dangled over the edge of the rail, swaying carelessly above the water. “Or did you have to work up to her?”

“I had to work up to her.” Erik rested his hand on the banister, the sensation as familiar as his own arms or legs. There was no reason to lie to Xavier- he couldn’t do anything with this information, and it felt… strangely freeing to talk to someone who wasn’t his subordinate in rank. Erik kept a strict separation between himself and the crew, keeping things professional… but that left him with no equals, no one to truly speak to. “Two years, I had a shitty lemon that my captain gave me. Then I got a beauty, and she got taken down. Hurricane. Then I got this old girl.” He looked across the deck, affection and warmth pinching at his chest in a pleasurable way. “She’s been good to me. One of the fastest ships I’ve ever touched.”

“Faster than I thought,” Xavier agreed, casting a brief glance up at the stars. “We’ll be there in six days, not seven. I’m impressed.” He glanced at Erik, taking him in slowly, and tilted his head with a small smile. “No eye patches, no peg legs… not even a parrot.” He tsked, reaching out and tilting the collar of Erik’s magenta coat away from his neck slightly. He released it again. “What a pirate.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep a smile off his face. So few people took the liberty to touch him. “I am still plenty fearsome. I have nasty scars, and many of my crew have peg legs and eyepatches. We do not have a parrot. Nasty things- they shit everywhere.”

“I had one for a while as a child.” Xavier’s smile was fond as he looked back at the water. “Lovely thing. My stepfather sold it, though. He was worried it would give me ‘ideas.’” He snorted, hopping up and walking carefully across the railing, boots balancing perfectly. “You don’t have a hat, either. Seemed to think it was a staple of captaincy. Is it elsewhere?” He glanced down at Erik with a grin.

“I don’t wear my hat  _ all  _ the time,” Erik informed him, smiling despite himself. “Only when I need to look impressive. You, however, dress like a damn cabin boy even though you’re a lord and a captain of the ship. Why is that?”

Xavier’s smile flickered. Stayed in place. Erik wondered what that was about and fought down the urge to chase that reaction, to find out where it came from. “I dress casually though I am the captain of a ship because my crew recognizes me regardless, and I’ve no patience for dressing in finery. I’d much rather be comfortable. The crew respects me regardless. Although, I’ll admit that Alex bullies me into a blue peacoat when we have to do trades.” He rolled his eyes, raising and balancing on one foot, tilting with the rocking of the ship absently. “I do like her,” he said thoughtfully, feeling the balance.

Erik watched him for a moment, confused. He was a  _ lord.  _ Had everything he could ever want. He didn’t strike Erik as a stubborn little brat or a spoiled heir who got bored and ran off. He seemed bizarrely more genuine than that. So then, his reasoning for running away made no sense. Why throw away everything he had, his money and stability, for this? He didn’t like dressing in finery… why was that?

Erik pulled his thoughts back to the topic at hand. “She’s a good ship,” he agreed. “I won her, and she needed help. It was an act of mercy more than anything, to be honest. Her last captain didn’t treat her the way he should and I should honestly have tracked him down and taught him a lesson for it afterward. No repainting, let the boards rot in half the deck, never waxed the deck  _ or  _ fixed any chips, so seawater got in and destroyed the wood… I had to chop down half a goddamn forest to fix it.”

“You fixed her yourself?” He turned again, looking down at Erik in interest. He sank to a crouch, nearly at eye-level with the captain, and smiled, his white teeth shining in the darkness. “That’s very impressive, Captain Lensherr.”

“Thank you, Captain Xavier.” Erik looked up at him, unsettled by how much he wanted to smile at this strange man. “And yes. My mentor firmly believed that a captain should be fully capable to do everything and anything needed to be done on his ship.”

“Sebastian Shaw, correct?” He studied him, tilting his head. “Died of a mutiny, so the legend goes. I had just left land when I heard the news.”

“Yes, that would be him.” Erik inclined his head. “It was indeed a terrible mutiny. Unfortunate, really.” He looked back out across the water, listening to the waves and the creaking of the wood and ropes around him, grounding himself in the place where his life was better. “He got what was coming to him.”

“People usually do,” he agreed, tilting his head back and letting the wind play with his dark curls, tugging them this way and that like a lover. He sighed. “Ah. It’s going to be such a shame to go back. I haven’t been land-bound for four years now. I’ll make my way back out- maybe they’ll even put up another reward- but it’ll be hard to sleep after being used to this for so long.” He hopped down off the railing and stretched.

“I haven’t slept on land for fifteen years.” Erik considered. “I’ve only been on land for a few hours at a time- any longer would be strange. I have no doubt you will escape.” he eyed the other captain. He wanted to ask about the vehemence about Westchester, of how he didn’t want anyone to go near it, and after a moment decided against saying anything. He was enjoying their conversation, strangely. “How did you even get into sailing? Was it something your family did? A merchant family?”

“No.” Xavier laughed, the sound bright in the darkness. “My mother was  _ vehemently _ opposed to the idea of her fine-bred son becoming a common sailor. I snuck out for years and paid off the dock workers to teach me things when no one was looking. My father was equally opposed, but busier.”

Erik watched him, concentrating on the long elegant fingers grasping at the rope overhead, and wondered what he would look like tied down to a bed, all that pale, freckled skin against the dark blue of his sheets, those gorgeous eyes hazy with want and need, his dark curls rumpled with the motion of their bodies together...

Goddamn, he needed a distraction. This was getting absolutely ridiculous. “So where were you going?” Erik asked, keeping his feet firmly planted on the desk and his hands firmly wrapped around the banister instead of touching the other man. He was gorgeous, that was all. It was sheer attraction. “On your ship, what were you doing?”

“Truly?” He turned back to Erik, grinning. “Charting. Did you know that there’s not a to-scale and accurate map of the world? Even the known word. Not one.” He crossed to stand in front of Erik, leaning forward with only his grip on the rope above him to keep him from falling against the taller captain. “Not one,” he echoed, eyes glittering down at Erik. “So I’ll be the first to map it. Every detail, every destination, factually and accurately represented.”

Erik smiled, raising an eyebrow, and didn’t move a muscle, despite the fact that they were mere inches apart. “That is quite an endeavor for any one man,” he said thoughtfully, looking up at the beautiful man there. “That would take your whole lifetime to complete.”

“I hope so,” he agreed warmly, drawing back and turning to cross the deck again. “I hope I spend every single day of my life working on it. Wouldn’t that be marvelous?” He settled himself against the mast he had been tied to, watching the water with a faint smile. “Marvelous,” he echoed nearly fondly.

Erik laughed, privately surprised at how easy it was to laugh with the other captain, how simple it was. “I suppose so,” he agreed. “Xavier, you should eat. You aren’t going to be able to escape if you don’t keep up your strength, and I won’t get any money for a corpse.”

“They might give you a pittance,” Xavier offered with a crooked smile, but he picked up the potato by his knee and began peeling it with a small pocketknife that appeared nearly out of nowhere. “You should rest, Lensherr. I’m hardly the kind to kill you all while you sleep, and I’m not going to go anywhere.” He gestured to the empty ocean around them with his knife.

“I run night shift.” Erik shook his head and went up to the wheel, adjusting it slightly. “My men sleep, and there are shifts where they come up, but for the most part it’s just me. Although Azazel and some of the others  _ would  _ come running if they needed to,” he added, aware of how that had sounded. His men were always alert to problems.

“So you sleep during the day?” Xavier watched him in interest, his eyes tracking Erik’s hands and arms for a moment before snapping back to his face.

“Some.” Erik shrugged off his jacket, resting it on the hook beside the wheel. He loved rolling up his sleeves and feeling the sensations of the wind against his arms at night. “I rotate my shifts and my sleeping- it’s more like a few hours at a time, at random times of the day. I like to be unpredictable, so my men never know when I will appear, ready to tear into one if he is being lazy.”

“I see.” Xavier looked away, and Erik felt a smile cross his face as he caught a faint flush of pink against the pale, freckled cheeks, barely visible in the moonlight. Did he make Xavier nervous? Was the attraction mutual? The idea sent pleasurable tingles through him as he considered that. “Well.” Xavier cleared his throat. “I’m going to sleep, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Go ahead.” Erik shrugged. “Sleep well.”

And, to Erik’s surprise, Xavier did exactly that, seeming to pay no mind to the fact that he was alone and weaponless (aside from a very small pocket knife) on a ship filled with pirates, the smallest of whom still had twice Xavier’s muscle mass. He ignored all of this and fell asleep, head tucked down onto his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs, as if the goal were to make himself as physically small as possible. Erik thought for a moment or two that Xavier was feigning sleep or perhaps just still awake, but the slow, even roll of his body in time with the ship suggested that he had, really and truly, fallen asleep right there on the deck.

So… bizarre. Erik tried to ignore him, and shook off his completely idiotic urge to throw a coat or blanket over the other captain, who was so small and almost delicate in the moonlight.

Charles Xavier was a  _ captive,  _ he reminded himself fiercely. Nothing else, no matter how beautiful he was.

********************************************

The next day passed quickly enough. When Erik woke and went to the deck, he found Xavier still in his place, watching in bemusement as a frustrated Janos tied a more complex knot around him and the mast. Azazel handed Erik a plate of food and a bottle of rum, shrugging.

“He didn’t go anywhere,” he offered, and continued on his business. Erik glanced out at Xavier periodically throughout the day and noted that the other captain was, for the most part, merely observing. His eyes were tracking everything the crew was doing, taking in their conversations and interactions with attentive fascination. He didn’t join in, never asked for anything, but he watched everything with intense scrutiny.

By the time Erik got up on deck for the evening shift, Xavier was once again untied and had climbed the mast, this time standing and holding onto the rigging. Erik snorted and scaled the mast up to where he was. “You’re going to give Janos a panic attack when he gets up here tomorrow,” he said. “You’re going to get burned at the stake as a witch, Xavier.”

“I’m teaching him to be better.” He grinned down at Erik, holding a hand out to help the taller man step up. He didn’t seem perturbed when Erik didn’t take it, instead tangling it loosely in the rigging above them. “He needs to learn how to properly secure a captive. What if you had a murderer on board? Hm? Then where would you be? Luckily for you, you’re stuck with a mere cartographer.” 

“A cartographer.” Erik rested his hands on the crossbeam above them to keep balance, shaking his head with a snort. “Is that what they call it? The ones who map things?” He looked Xavier up and down. “Janos  _ tied your hands together,  _ how the hell did you get free?”

Xavier gave him another slow smile. “I’m very flexible. I’ve a lot of experience getting out of knots.” He considered thoughtfully, clearly unaware or uncaring about how that sent streaks of heat flashing across Erik’s skin. “I’ll advise him to tie the feet tomorrow, as well. And then I’ll add in some more for the next day… he’ll be well-taught by the time you drop me at Westchester. Then you’ll have someone properly trained for the next poor sod you drag onboard.” He laughed.

Erik snorted. “We don’t often take prisoners, but thank you. I encourage my crew to gain knowledge and practice their skills.” Erik stretched, swinging his legs out over the long distance down to the deck and letting himself hang there for a moment, flexing his muscles slightly to keep from falling. “I was a rope rat for the majority of my adolescence. Sometimes I miss it, and I spend a day or so up here.”

“I tried once at one of the ships in the dock.” Xavier looked rueful. “My stepfather caught me in the rigging. I didn’t get to learn the ropes until I left… I wish I’d done it earlier. The muscle memory just can’t compare to someone who’s done it since they were young.” He cast a glance up at the sky and raised his hand to measure against the stars. He made a thoughtful noise. “So you haven’t slept on land for fifteen years… How old were you when you devoted yourself to the life, then?”

Erik swung his feet back to the beam Xavier was standing on. “I was  _ born  _ into the life, Captain Xavier. My mother was a pirate queen who gave birth to me and it’s said she immediately went back up to the decks and killed fifteen men.” He laughed at the old story. Honestly, he wouldn’t disbelieve it. “Seawater runs in my veins- I swam before I walked. I’ve never lived on land- I can count the number of times I’ve  _ slept  _ on land on one hand.”

Xavier watched him, eyes wide with fascination and longing. “Truly? That’s… incredible.” He shook his head, watching Erik with something very like awe, and Erik smiled a little, shaking his head and trying not to show how pleased he was at the praise.

“There are drawbacks. She wasn’t exactly around very often, and most of our bonding time consisted of knots, sailing lessons, and discipline testing. She was a good mother, but she had to run an empire, and that takes time. There are a lot of things I’ve never seen or experienced, since I am never on land.”

“I’d trade you,” he mused softly, his eyes leaving Erik’s face to focus on the sea around them. “I never wanted anything so much as just this, as far back as I can remember. I sat on the dock every night for years, just waiting. And you got born to it.” He sighed enviously.

Erik watched him. “Some landsiders are like that,” he said, shrugging. “Some of us are born on the sea and go to the land, and some of you who were born on land come to the sea and stay here.” He looked out across the water, considering the idea. Sitting on land, staring at the ocean and begging the universe to let you go... 

And he was going to give the man back, strand him on land again.

Erik shook his head, trying to drag his eyes away from Xavier’s face. His job, his  _ responsibility  _ was to his people, was to his ship. Just because the man was pretty was no excuse to give him back and waste the money.

Xavier seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He sighed, stretching with his hands on the crossbeam above them. “I should have just thrown that ring out years ago,” he mused, letting his feet leave the wood below and dangling there for a moment. He glanced up at the stars again, considering. “ _ Cerebras  _ is probably nearing port,” he said thoughtfully, pulling himself up slightly.

“Where do you make port?” Erik watched him carefully, curiously. “I’ve never run into your ship before.”

“Yeah!” He laughed, looking at Erik with a grin as he hung there. “Because we avoid pirates! I memorized the most common pirate routes years ago. Unfortunately, we had to cross into dangerous waters to be able to map this side of the coast.” 

“You’re going to fall,” Erik informed him, raising an eyebrow and quelling the small amount of discomfort at the idea. It was, of course, because he was worried about losing the money. “Regardless of how flexible you are.”

_ I’d like to test how flexible you are. _

His mouth went dry and he focused on the man instead of his lascivious thoughts.

“Maybe I’d land on my feet,” Xavier suggested lightly, smiling, once more only inches away. He studied Erik for a long moment, leaving his hands above them, and Erik felt interest and excitement rush through him as he caught again a slight flush across his face, Xavier’s pupils slightly wider than they should have been. Xavier cleared his throat, looking away quickly and moving to drop back to his feet. One landed, the other missing, and he wobbled sharply, tilting backwards.

Erik lunged forward, reaching back and grabbing the rope he knew would be there with one hand, wrapping his other arm around Xavier and pulling him flush against him, jerking them both back against the mast. “Fuck,” Erik said, breath coming a little quicker than he would have expected. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“Shit,” Xavier said sharply, the word harsh coming from that red mouth and posh accent. He gripped Erik’s shoulders, looking down quickly. “ _ Cerebras _ \- her mast is a little thicker- muscle memory, thank you-” He looked back at Erik quickly, offering a quick smile that faded slowly as he took in how close they were. He faltered, blue eyes nearly navy in the darkness. “Thank you,” he repeated, clearing his throat and releasing his grip on Erik’s shoulders.

“You’re welcome.” Erik realized he was still holding him against his chest and slowly released him, but was unable to step back due to his back being pressed against the mast. “Sorry. I’m sure it would throw a person off, the change in widths.” 

“Yeah.” Xavier moved back slightly, much more flushed now than he had been, and looking oddly breathless in addition. He cleared his throat, shaking his head fast as if to clear his head. “I should- I should go to sleep. I’ve got to wake up early enough to retie myself and piss Janos off, you know?” 

And then he was climbing back to the deck, leaving Erik alone and entirely too warm on the mast.

It seemed it  _ was  _ a mutual attraction… which was strange to think, that such a sweet, brave and not-pirate be even slightly interested. But apparently he was, and that was… amazing and wonderful, in so many ways. Except that he couldn’t have him, because he had promised his crew the money. They  _ needed _ the money.

He had been a pirate his entire life. He had hunted for treasures great and small, found them with relentless perseverance. Some of the treasures he had kept for himself, on shelves or in a chest in his quarters. Others he had sold at great profit. But somehow he had never wanted anything quite like he wanted the slender, blue-eyed captain on his ship.

********************************************

The third day, Janos’ ranting and raving woke Erik up in the captain’s quarters. He stumbled to his feet, poking his head out, and his lecture was lost as he found Charles Xavier laughing as Janos retied him, each hand up above his head and then each foot separately. Azazel was watching them with amusement, and it looked like several of the different crewmembers were making bets, passing coins back and forth. 

Erik stared at the setup, aware of every pulse of blood flashing through him as his eyes trailed over the way Xavier’s hands were turned out and tied up high, his arms taut and his eyes glittering, his body pulled into a long line, his legs long and tied down, the way he laughed...

Erik immediately withdrew back into his quarters and tried to busy himself throughout the first half of the day with various interior tasks, forcefully keeping his mind off the situation outside. He cleaned the room, organized some of the treasure, counted coins, anything to keep from going out and witnessing it again. He felt like he would burst out of his skin if he had to stand there and try to make conversation with his crew a few feet from  _ that. _ Finally, however, he was left with no other tasks and went outside to make himself useful on deck. 

Charles had begun talking on this day, chattering brightly to the crew, who never quite looked like they knew how to take this, uncertain what to do with their too-cheerful captive now that he was spending most of his time questioning their actions, their motives, and their ways of cleaning the deck. He spent an extraordinary amount of time interrogating Darwin on his homeland, telling him with great enthusiasm how lovely it was to meet him.

It was oddly frustrating, watching Charles beam and conversate with everyone who was not Erik. In fact, he didn’t look at Erik once, though he had to be aware of him, stalking across the deck and snapping orders that stemmed entirely from his foul temper. Which, of course, was entirely the fault of Charles Xavier for ignoring him so thoroughly.

He went back into his own quarters for dinner and when he emerged, found that Charles had predictably escaped his binds again. He was up in the crow’s nest on this night, and offered Erik a wave from above when he saw Erik glancing around the ship for him. Erik snorted, going to check the knots and ties on the deck. That was fine. The moment that Xavier was comfortable enough to talk to the crew and the crew wanted to talk to him, Erik was of no use and he ignored him. Fine. That was fine.

It didn’t escape him that the last time they had been alone, he had been a little obvious about his growing attraction to the other man, and  _ that  _ could be why he was ignoring him. And that was fine, too. He didn’t want to get closer to his captive, anyway.

He turned and found Xavier there, hanging upside-down from a rope that had apparently descended from the crow’s nest. He swung back and forth, grinning at Erik. “Your ship has problems,” he told him warmly. “You should fix those.”

Damn him for being so alluring and making Erik’s chest hurt and ache in a totally strange way. “Is that so?” Erik raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are the problems with my ship?”

“Well.” Charles moved slightly, tangling his leg with the rope so that he was dangling that way, his hands freed. He ticked issues off on his fingers as he spoke. “The crow’s nest has a crack in the floor. Also you should have a notch to store your spyglass up there. Your railing has two places where it’s been weakened-- sometimes the crew gets drunk and uses those spots to open bottles. You have a floorboard on the port side that’s loose and some of them hide drugs beneath it. Which, you’re pirates so it’s fine, but the board squeaks when you walk on it and that’s a nuisance. And finally, one of the pegs in your wheel is loose.”

Erik harrumphed and picked up a length of rope, hanging it on his belt to put it away. “That is quite a list. I will take care of the drugs stash- I don’t tolerate that unless it stops some kind of pain.”

“You’ve been testy today,” he observed cheerfully, and there was a slight thump as he landed neatly on his feet beside Erik. “I’d have thought you’d be in a good mood. Only three more days until your payday.” He crossed to the railing and straddled it, watching Erik curiously.

Erik shook his head. “I am not  _ testy.  _ I am a pirate, sometimes we have mood swings. You seem to have had a good day.” He took a drink from his flask.

“I did. Your Darwin is extraordinarily fascinating. I would love to visit his homeland.” Xavier reached out, plucked Erik’s flask out of his hand with neat fingers, and took a swig without pause. He grimaced slightly and shook his head. “Ah. You pirates, absolutely no accounting for taste.” He took another drink, then tossed the flask back to him.

“Darwin is interesting,” Erik agreed reluctantly, walking along the deck and trying to ignore the pull of want, of desire for conversation and touch that Charles Xavier could awaken in him. “Our alcohol is better than the hoity-toity shit you drink. What do you even drink?”

“Wine. Whiskey. Sometimes other unnamed liquids procured by Alex or Sean.” He watched Erik walk away from him. “Wine’s my favorite, I’ll admit. Although Hank back home used to make this  _ marvelously _ painful drink… I wonder if he still does. I wonder if I’ll see him. If I’ll see Raven. I hope they’ve done well for themselves.” His voice quieted and Erik turned his head and found him watching the horizon line warily, shoulders tense. 

_ I don’t want to be your friend. _

_ I don’t want you to look like that. _

Erik gritted his teeth and moved back to stand beside him, cursing the strange softness that this delicate, blue-eyed man stirred up. “I’ve been to Westchester,” he said gruffly. “It’s fine. Boring, but fine. Why the fuck do you hate it so much?”

“When my stepfather found me in the rigging that day, he broke my hands.” He didn’t look away from the water. “I was twelve. I couldn’t even pick up a quill for nearly six months.”

Erik stared at him, his bad temper forgotten. “Fuck, Xavier. Did he do shit like that often? Was it drink, or was he just hateful?”

“He was just… temperamental.” Xavier shrugged absently. “The casual discipline, I could take. I’m good with pain. It’s not so hard to handle. But he chose more effective ways of punishing me once he realized how badly I took the rigging incident. They found my maps when I was fourteen and set them on fire. When I was sixteen, they fired an entire company because they found out that the sailors had been teaching me.” He swallowed, shook his head slightly. “When I was seventeen, they held me under the water as long as they could. Thought maybe they could develop a phobia of it if they exposed me to it enough. I left the same night, once they’d all gone to sleep.”

“And they want you back.” Erik searched his face slowly. “They want you back.” To hurt and torment, to break him and make him something other than the beautiful, fierce, free creature he was at this moment. Erik looked back out at the sea, taking another long drink. Giving a spoiled little prince back to their family was one thing. Giving Xavier back to an abusive home was something different.

Of course he could be lying, but… Erik sensed that he didn’t lie. After all these years of dealing with swindlers, liars and thieves, Erik had developed a good idea of when people were lying and when they weren’t, and he believed Xavier.

Which meant that taking him to Westchester was the worst thing they could do.

“Hey.” Xavier bumped him with his shoulder, voice lighter. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll give you your money, you’ll sail off, I’ll sneak out with the next outbound ship, and I’ll meet Alex at port. Really, it’s an excellent way to swindle overly-wealthy individuals into giving up some money.” He flashed Erik a grin. “No harm, no foul.”

Erik looked down at him, frowning a little. “Why were you so comfortable with my crew today? You haven't been. What changed? Just time, just knowing them better?”  _ Why did you ignore me today and now you’re talking to me again? _ He was just confusing. Offering to allow him to give Xavier back to his abusive father. Being sweet and warm and flirty and then ignoring him all day long.

“Well, no.” He frowned slightly, brow creasing the smallest amount. “I… it was an experiment. Of sorts. An unsuccessful one.”

“An experiment?” Erik frowned at him. “What kind of experiment?”

He pressed his lips together briefly, then, “I just… wanted to see if all pirates were like you.” He rolled his shoulders back. “They’re not.”

Erik turned, meeting the eyes that held the color of the ocean in the deepest Caribbean ocean, lit through by a bright spring sun. His favorite color, his favorite sea, his favorite season. Set in a pale, beautiful face with freckles sprinkled across the nose and cheeks, topped with wild, curly dark hair that looked like the softest thing in the world. He tried to keep the flush from his face, the evidence of how much he wanted to explore this bizarre want that he always thought he had a handle on, until they were close enough. “Wondering if all pirates are like me? What am I like?”

Xavier swallowed, turned his face away. “Different.” He shook his head, running a hand through those curls and brushing them out of his face. “Fascinating. Intense. Ill-tempered. Curious. And you have a smile like a shark,” he added, tossing the words between them, but he smiled as he said it, the ocean the recipient of the gift.

“Fascinating?” Erik considered this. “I am ill-tempered, I have been told that. As well as the shark-smile. I cultivated that.” He grinned a little, then, “Is different a bad thing?”

“No,” Xavier said on a rueful sort of sigh. “Just a complicated thing.”

“Complicated.” Erik raised an eyebrow, then lifted the plate he’d been given as he had walked up. “I brought you food, by the way. So you want to explain what complicated means?”

He laughed, the sound bright and shimmering like a stream of silver coins. “And single-minded,” he added to his list reflectively, then looked at Erik, focusing on him again with that near-startling intensity. “It means,” he began rather frankly, “That me being attracted to a pirate who’s presently in the process of ransoming me was not, in fact, on my list of goals for the year.”

Erik blinked at him, then smiled a little. “Are you always so forthright?” He reached out, touching Xavier’s hair as he had wanted to for days, winding a curl around his finger. 

“Nearly,” he agreed, watching Erik’s fingers. “I don’t like to lie. It takes too much effort. Honesty gets you the thoughts of others much more quickly. And you did ask, you know. It can hardly be a surprise, you know what you look like.” He gestured to Erik briefly with a roll of his eyes.

Erik raised an eyebrow. “What I look like?” He stepped forward, into Xavier’s space a little. “Do you have any idea what  _ you  _ look like? Half my crew couldn’t do their goddamn jobs with you laughing and teasing them all day. Conrad almost walked off the ship.”

“The one with the scar?” His eyebrows raised, his smile wide. “I like him. He’s got nice arms.”

“He’s got nice arms?” Erik moved forward, resting a hand on the banister on either side of the blue eyed captain, leaning forward slightly. “That’s because he has no mind for preciseness and I use him for all the heavy lifting. We’d all have nice arms if we carried fifty pound barrels everywhere.”

“Mm?” He was close enough now that he could see the small dark flecks in those sapphire eyes, could  _ see _ the pupils expanding slightly as Xavier looked up at him. Xavier licked his lips slowly, eyes on Erik’s mouth, then met Erik’s gaze again. “I see,” he said, clearing his throat slightly. “Makes logical sense. You know that this is a terrible idea?” But his eyes had dropped again, and one hand had hooked loosely around Erik’s right wrist.

“Yes.” Erik smiled, not moving. “Is it an unwelcome one?”

“No.” He laughed, again that brilliant sound, and shook his head. “Not at all.” 

“Good.” Erik pressed his lips against Xavier’s, curling a hand around the back of the shorter man's neck, and Xavier made a soft sound, fingers catching on Erik’s shoulders and drawing him in closer. One hand fisted in his shirt as his legs hooked around Erik’s waist, and Erik wrapped an arm around his back, keeping him from falling backward off the railing and into the ocean below, giving a short laugh, but much more interested in keeping him in place so he could tilt Xavier’s head back with the hand on his neck, kissing the soft skin beneath his jaw, where his pulse thrummed, pulling him closer against him.

Xavier made a small whimpering sound, leaning into Erik’s chest. “Erik,” he breathed. “You…”

“Captain!” Azazel’s voice called as the hatch for below deck was opened, and Xavier pulled back quickly, releasing Erik from both hands and feet as Azazel came up onto the deck. Erik was loathe to turn around— Xavier looked wonderfully mussed, breathing hard with dark eyes and flushed skin, his hair even more in a disarray than usual— but it could, in fact, be important.

Erik straightened his coat and turned slowly, hoping he didn’t look too out of sorts. “Yes?” He asked, pulling that calm around him that he always had as a trademark.

“Drake and Allerdyce are fighting. It’s taken three men to pull them apart and they nearly knocked a candle onto a bed.” He was scowling. “We’ve told them to stop or they’ll spend the night in the brig, but you may need to knock some sense into them.”

“I’ll be right down.” Erik nodded. “Yell at them for another moment or so, will you?”

His quartermaster issued a short affirmative and vanished back below deck. Xavier gave a soft laugh, hopping down from the railing behind him. “Maybe it’s better,” he volunteered casually, but he still sounded somewhat out of breath.

_ Is it? _ Erik nodded a little, running a hand through his hair. “You’re probably right. I’ll be back at some point, since I knock sense into those idiots.”

“Good luck.” Xavier chuckled, smiling at him with slightly-swollen lips. “Try to go easy on them. It’s a full moon, and a storm will hit before too long. They’re bound to be wound up.”

Why was he so goddamn gorgeous? Erik let himself look at Xavier for a moment longer, smiling a little, then tucked a curl behind the slim captain’s ear and headed downstairs, cursing his responsibilities.

********************************************

Day four was different still. Erik woke early and emerged from his quarters just to watch as Janos nearly wept in rage when he found Charles Xavier loose yet again. Xavier evidently thought this was  _ great _ fun and laughed enthusiastically, then helpfully gave Janos tips on how to better secure him. Janos gnashed his teeth and furiously accepted the tips, tying the ropes probably more tightly than necessary as the crew swapped further coins, the betting pool becoming more and more enthusiastic.

Xavier again spoke animatedly to the crew, this time chattering frequently to Bobby Drake, who had been one of the offenders from the night before. Erik overheard him giving the powder monkey tips on how to get the gunpowder out from beneath his nails. John Allerdyce, the other offender from the night, was also a recipient of Xavier’s attention, and Xavier spent nearly an hour distracting John (and a crowd of other crew members that grew larger with every passing minute) with a rather funny story about the time that Xavier’s cook, Sean, had snuck a live turkey onboard  _ Cerebras _ and it had gotten loose on the deck.

“I had to jump overboard and rescue it from the sea,” Xavier finished with a grin, meeting Erik’s eyes merrily. That was the difference from the day before-- he was interacting with Erik as well. “Alex, my first mate, nearly beat us both black and blue. Couldn’t bear to have the turkey die after all that fuss, though. We kept him onboard as a pet for about a week until we made port and sold him to a farmer.”

Despite Xavier being  _ very _ firmly tied up and Erik trying to run his ship the best he could, it was a good day. Xavier caught Erik’s attention a few times and asked about the ship, their heading, or random questions such as whether or not Erik had ever swum in the same water as a whale. His curiosity was relentless, and it explained much of the behavior from the daylight hours of the past four days. Charles watched everything because he wanted to  _ know _ everything, regardless of how small or mundane.

“I’ve never been on a pirate ship,” he explained cheerfully, shrugging the best he could when Erik commented on this.

Azazel eventually brought Erik back to Captain’s Quarters and gave him an update on one of the ships that had been using their flags and that had gotten into a small skirmish with the navy. They were up arguing about this late enough that, when Erik poked his head out of the cabin after Azazel finally left, he found Xavier (free, of course) slumped against the mast and asleep.

He tried to ignore the odd and viciously strong sense of disappointment at that, and withdrew again, taking a swig of rum before crossing to his bed.

********************************************

He woke halfway through the night to a thunderclap, and blinked once at the ceiling, considering this somewhat groggily. Xavier had been right— a storm had been on its way. Usually Erik would have noticed this, but his thoughts and attention had been irritatingly preoccupied for the last three days. There was something about the storm that unsettled him slightly, he realized dimly, then sat up.

Xavier. He had no jacket, no coat, no hat as Erik’s crew had to keep the rain off, as the wheelman had on. There was no shelter on the deck. He looked like he was made of sticks and skin- he was going to catch his death of cold in this kind of storm.

Erik was up and pulling on his boots and coat before he even knew what he was doing, grabbing his hat to keep the rain off his face so he could find Xavier if he had to look. He jogged up to the deck and glanced around, noting with unease that the rain was freezing cold and, by the look of things, had been going for a while. 

For a moment, he didn’t see him and wondered to himself if perhaps Xavier had done the smart thing and gone belowdecks. He wasn’t  _ actually _ tied up, he had the autonomy to do so, but at the same time, Erik hadn’t actually seen him ever show any interest in going below. He could have, Erik thought as he scanned the deck. Gone below. Alone. Where there were two dozen pirates, all of whom were larger and stronger than the slender captain, all of whom thought he wasn’t supposed to be out of his binds, and half of whom found him extremely attractive.

Erik couldn’t honestly tell himself which one he was more worried about, but both ideas gave him a strange, intense kind of anxiety. He had grabbed the hatch to go below when he caught a glimpse of a figure in the crow’s nest again, perched at the rim with its head tilted back to look up at the rain.

“Xavier!” He found himself bellowing, and his captive looked around at him, though he couldn’t see his expression from this distance and with the rain trying to fall into his eyes.

“That’s not my name!” Xavier called back down, sounding shivering cold and cheerful. “It’s a family name, and I don’t use it!”

“I don’t give a shit what your name is, get your ass down here!” Erik yelled, his relief at finding him safe turning to anger. What the hell was the man doing all the way up there, sitting there and looking up at the damn rain?!

Xavier, miracle of miracles, actually obeyed, grabbing hold of the same rope he had swung on earlier in the night and sliding down. He slid a little too fast, the water making the rope slicker than before, but he landed neatly enough on his feet in front of Erik and offered a bright smile all the same.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Xavier asked him, potentially unaware of how much of an intoxicating mess he looked like. His dark hair looked almost black when it was wet, nearly straight for once and plastered against his skin. His skin was far paler than it had been before, likely from the cold, which made his freckles stand out like small sparks on the porcelain of his face. His eyes were the only thing that were the same, large and cerulean and focused on him earnestly, and Erik found himself wondering, for just a moment, if this was what sirens looked like. Xavier certainly looked the part-- his white shirt was nearly clear from the water, revealing small but toned muscles, and had been pulled down over one shoulder- perhaps from sliding down the rope- revealing a slender shoulderblade speckled with freckles that danced across the captain’s collarbone and vanished below his shirt. 

In the darkness and moonlight, he looked like some strange, alluring water-creature come to tempt him from the depths.

_ You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life.  _ Erik stood for a moment, stricken at the strength of his thoughts and reaction to the man before him, then stepped back, not trusting himself to touch Xavier right now. He would kiss him senseless, and the man needed to get somewhere warm, not be mauled. “Get belowdecks,” he said, the heat of his anger gone and his voice deeper than it should have been. “Now. You’ll catch your death out here if you haven’t already.”

“I’m not going to catch my death,” he said dismissively, waving a hand. “It’s not so bad out here. It’ll pass soon, it’s already been a few hours.” He looked back up at the cloudy sky, ignoring the small tremor wracking his frame. “I want to see the sunrise.”

“You can see it tomorrow. I won’t repeat myself again. Get. Your. Ass. Below. Decks.” There was his anger, rekindled at the shakes he could see Xavier trying to hide. Stubborn British ass. “The hatch right there, go down the stairs.  _ Now _ .”

Those blue irises focused back on him, interest making them glimmer like sapphires. He stepped slightly closer, tilting his head. “Is that an order?”

“Did it sound like a fucking request?” Erik glared down at him. “ _ Go.” _

“Fair enough.” Xavier’s grin was wide. “Maybe I’ll run into Conrad.” He winked at him and turned, heading for the hatch. Erik followed him and grabbed the back of his shirt, keeping him in place. There was really nowhere for him to go but…

“Captains quarters is that way,” Erik informed him, propelling him toward his own room. “As if I would allow you to mingle with my men and start a damn mutiny.”

“Me? A mutiny?” Xavier grinned back at him, eyes wide and guileless as he allowed Erik to push him toward Erik’s rooms. “You wound me, darling. I would never mutiny with pirates. It’s just not classy.”

“Like I would believe that.” Erik opened his door. “In, you idiot. Before you die and then that blonde moron first mate of yours spends the rest of his life chasing me because he’s just certain I killed you.”

“Alex is a good man,” Xavier agreed, shivering slightly more openly now as he obeyed and stepped inside.

Erik’s quarters were about what he’d expect from any pirate captain’s quarters. His bed, large and comfortable, in the corner. Chests with treasure and bounty along the wall. A desk covered in maps and quills. Various relics scattered throughout, on the walls or shelves. Charles, however, crossed immediately to the bookcase, staring at it in open-mouthed delight.

“You read! I knew you could, of course, you read my wanted notice, but-” He reached out as if to stroke the spines of the books, but stopped short, perhaps realizing just how sopping wet he was. He read the titles instead, fascinated and delighted, then turned before Erik had a chance to cross to him, instead darting to the desk to peruse the maps visible to him. “Ah, these aren’t actually bad!”

“Of course they’re not.” Erik snorted and went to his chest, pulling out a shirt and a warm vest. He tossed them to Xavier. “I don’t have any pants that fit you, put those on and then you can read to your hearts delight.” He was strangely pleased that Xavier was so excited about the books- he hadn’t realized he liked them so much, or he would have given him one to entertain himself through the day. He was trying very hard not to focus on Xavier here, in his space, walking around as if he belonged here.

Because it was very, very strange that it  _ didn’t  _ feel strange.

“I think you just insinuated that I’m sh-short.” Xavier’s shivering was more open now and he shot Erik a grateful smile as he stripped his wet shirt off, using it to mop off some of the excess water from his skin before pulling on the dry shirt. Erik tried to ignore, as he took his own hat and coat off, how an oddly possessive part of him felt a small surge of pleasure at the sight of Charles Xavier in his shirt. “Which I am not. I am average. You are tall.”

“That may be the case.” Erik snorted and picked up a blanket from the bed, wrapping it around the shivering man. “Sit at the desk and relax. Don’t steal anything. I’ll be back.” He stepped back and Xavier watched him, burrowing into the blanket.

When he came back with a cup of steaming tea, Xavier was curled up sideways in his chair and was still buried in the blanket, but now was holding a quill and was absently making  _ edits _ to Erik’s maps, reforming a coastline here and adding an island there. He brushed the end of the feather along his lips slowly, considering, then added another island before glancing up at Erik. Most of the shaking seemed to have gone, he noted, and he’d recovered some of his color.

“Are you fixing my maps?” Erik snorted and put the tea next to him. “You’re British. I figured you’d rather have tea than coffee, but I don’t have anything more than sugar for it, so I hope you like it black.” He leaned over, examining the new maps, and noted how clear Xavier’s handwriting was. His was atrocious. But then, he hadn’t had governesses or whatever they called them to teach him.

“Thank you.” Xavier offered a glowing smile and wrapped his hands around the cup, holding it close for warmth for a minute. “Yes, there were some errors-” he paused. “Belatedly, I realize that I should have asked permission. I’m so sorry, did you like your inaccurate maps?” He looked up at him with clear dismay, pushing his wet locks out of his face.

_ This is a bad idea. _

_ Maybe it’s better. _

Erik restrained himself- barely- from burying his hands in that wet hair and kissing Charles Xavier senseless, and gave him a grin. “No,” he said in amusement. “It’s fine. I appreciate you fixing them.”

Xavier’s beam nearly glowed, and then faltered somewhat, perhaps realizing how close Erik was, leaned over the desk like this. He cleared his throat, more color flushing into those freckled cheeks, and nodded a little. “My pleasure,” he noted, raising the cup to his lips and taking a slow drink. Erik tried not to focus on the line of his throat as he swallowed, his eyes still locked with Erik’s. 

He was a pirate, god damn it all. Xavier found him attractive, and Erik had never wanted anything as much as he wanted this half-drowned captain. Did he really need to care about whether he should or shouldn’t take him? In two days, Xavier would be gone. Stranded at home, out with the next tide, and out of Erik Lensherr’s world forever. Did it matter that Xavier didn’t think it was a smart idea if he still  _ wanted _ Erik?

Erik reached out, running a hand through Xavier’s wet hair. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he said, then leaned in, pushing the cup down and away from Xavier’s face as he kissed him, pulling him closer. Xavier made a low noise, releasing the cup in favor of catching Erik’s face in his hands and arching up in his chair. 

And as they moved together later, Xavier- no  _ Charles,  _ he insisted on being called  _ Charles _ \- pulling on his silken binds as he moaned Erik’s name, his head tilted back so Erik could bite and lick and kiss every inch of his beautifully freckled skin, Captain Lensherr wondered how, exactly, he had let it go for five days before he had allowed this man into his bed.

But then Charles had tightened his muscles around him with a noise of need and want, and Erik’s thought processes dissolved into nothing more than finding out exactly what it took to make Charles Xavier whimper like that again.

********************************************

“ _ I am going to throw him overboard! _ ” Janos’ voice, nearly mad and filled with wild energy, roused Erik from sleep on the fifth day. Charles was asleep, curled up against his side, looking beautifully warm and sleep-rumpled. His eyes opened, peering up at him blearily at the sounds of laughter and rage from the deck, and he raised a clumsy hand to fumble over his eyes.

“Wha’s…” he raised his head slightly, blinking slowly at their surroundings, then up at Erik. “Oh.” A smile crossed his face and he dropped his head back to the pillows again. “Mornin’. Janos angry?”

“Janos is always angry,” Erik said with a laugh, rolling over and kissing him. “But you particularly piss him off. It’s almost a talent. I would be impressed, if I didn’t need him to  _ not  _ have a stroke.”

“Mm.” Charles smiled against Erik’s lips. “He’s your sailing master. It’s a pity-- I’d get along well with him normally. Could give him better navigational charts or something.” He leaned up, kissing Erik’s jaw slowly, then sat up to look around for his shirt. Erik’s hand brushed along his back as he did, and he frowned.

His skin was far, far too warm.

“Charles, are you running a fever?” Erik pressed a hand to his head, his cheeks, his chest. “Shit. I  _ told you  _ that you were going to be sick.” He got out of bed quickly. 

“I’m not  _ sick _ ,” Charles scoffed, pulling his shirt on. “I’m a bit warm, is all. A cup of tea, some fresh air, I’ll be right as rain.”

“You’re warm because you’re sick,” Erik chastised, pulling on his clothes. “Get dressed, I’ll take you topside and look at you properly.” Fresh air  _ might  _ help. It  _ could  _ just be that he was warm in this room, and being up on the deck would help.

“I didn’t take you for an alarmist,” Charles noted, grinning at him as he pulled his pants and boots on. “It’s a cute look on you.” He staggered as he pulled his boot on, caught his balance with the desk, and opened the door.

“ _ You! _ ” Janos pointed at him as soon as Charles emerged on the deck. “ _ How? _ What in God’s name  _ are _ you? It’s magic or witchcraft or something, there’s  _ no way _ you should have been able to get out of that restraint without cutting the ropes!”

“It was a monsoon last night,” Erik snorted. “I took him belowdecks so we wouldn’t risk the cargo.”

“But did you untie him?” he pressed furiously, and Charles grinned.

“He did not, in fact. It was close though, very close. You’ve almost got it. Azazel, we’ll arrive tomorrow. You might want to send a bird and let them know to expect us, so that they don’t think you lot are pillaging the port.” Charles turned to look at the quartermaster as he approached. “I’d sent the ring with the note and the notice to lend credibility to your claim. Have their representative meet us at the dock. They can trade the money for me and you fellows can be on your way without any risk to either party.”

Azazel arched an eyebrow, examining Charles slowly, then turned his scrutiny on Erik. “ _ We’re still cashing him in?” _ He asked in his native tongue, the one he had taught Erik years ago, when they were both still under Shaw’s flag.  _ “I thought you’d keep him. _ ”

Erik looked anywhere but at Charles, his stomach turning over. He hadn’t thought about that this morning, his contentment and his concern for the fever overriding it. “ _ I don’t know. _ ”

Charles looked between them quickly, confused and concerned. “It’s not a trick,” he assured them. “I just think it’s safer if the majority of you stay on the ship, where you have an exit strategy. I don’t imagine they’d be able to summon the navy or anything with as little warning as a day, but a trade on the pier is the smartest and safest avenue. They can hand me the reward, I’ll hand it to you, and you’re off. I wouldn’t lead you into a trap-- pirates or no, you’re decent enough people and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Erik gave him a look and laughed. As if he considered Charles a threat. But… Charles  _ was  _ a threat. The flutter of panic in his chest at the thought that his concerns had been realized and Charles was sick in actuality spoke to something that was maybe turning into slightly more than a mutual attraction. He had had lovers before. He had never had anyone whose well-being was such a concern.

“We know it’s not a trap,” he assured him, and pointed to the rail. “Sit there. Don’t fall over, and if your fever has not gone down by midday, we will need to think of something.” Fever could be a lot of things. It could be sickness, could be infection, but most likely it was just illness from sitting  _ in a monsoon in the crow’s nest.  _

“I’ll be in Westchester by tomorrow, if anything’s wrong with me, they’ll fix it up.” But he obeyed, sitting on the railing. Azazel examined him again, clucking his tongue. 

“ _ This is trouble _ ,” he informed Erik. “I’m going to go write the letter, then.” He vanished into the captain’s quarters and Charles watched him go, amused. 

“I like him,” he commented, pressing a hand to his forehead. “How long have you known each other?”

“We were under Shaw together- he’s been with me for years and years. He is incredibly loyal and worth his weight in gold.” Erik watched Charles, feeling concern eating at him. He was right, that they would have him back in his hometown soon enough, and Charles was rich enough that he could get help. He would be safe, and obviously he was brilliant enough that he could escape from whatever kind of house that his father lived in. Then he would go, and be part of his own crew again and sail the sea, avoiding pirates.

Avoiding Erik.

And that was strangely… upsetting. Erik was shocked at how much he had begun to enjoy the other man’s company, how much he looked forward to seeing Charles at night, their flirtatious talk and serious talk alike. Their physical connection was incredible and beyond what Erik had experienced with any other partner, last night an especially bright moment in the landscape of his life.

He wanted to keep Charles, if he was honest. Erik wanted to keep him and take him sailing, take him to exotic places and strange lands, to see those eyes light up in wonder. He wanted to take him to islands Erik had discovered so his cartographer could draw them up. He would sail wherever Charles wanted to go, to see that smile and hear that laugh.

Which was ridiculous.

“That’s good.” Charles smiled at him, oblivious to Erik’s inner monologue. “I would imagine that, in piracy, it’s important to be surrounded by people you can trust. Do you trust everyone in your crew?”

Erik settled beside him, looking around at the men working hard to keep their ship going, risking injury or death any time Erik wanted to go somewhere and pillage or burn something. He smiled a little. “Yes,” he admitted. “Most of these men, I have had with me since my first ship. I was lucky that I only lost a few in the accident that killed my first boat, and most of those who survived, stayed.”

“I’m glad.” Charles’ eyes crinkled and he looked around at the crew wandering about. “They’re better people than I would have assumed just from hearing that they’re pirates,” he reflected quietly. “Of course, I wasn’t exactly raised with the notion that pirates are normal people.” He snorted. “My parents hate them. They’ll be so annoyed to have to give the money up to someone like you, it’s going to be beautiful.”

Erik snorted. “Most pirates are simply people who weren’t accepted in the government’s boats for whatever reason. Sometimes it’s money for the uniform, sometimes it’s a deformity or an injury, sometimes it’s a lack of morals, it’s true. But more often than not, they’re just imperfect men who want nice things in life. They’re no different than anyone else.”

Charles nodded, watching him for a moment, then avoided his gaze. “Well. I’m glad to have learned that. Thank you for teaching me.” He dropped his hand from his forehead and glanced down at the crew. “Mm. Allerdyce and Drake are arguing again.”

Erik stood, cursing. “Stay here and rest. I’m going to go take care of that and send someone over with food while I deal with things.” He hesitated, feeling like he should say something else, then slowly walked away, yelling for Drake and Allerdyce to come to him.

Keeping Charles meant depriving his crew of things they desperately needed, and Charles had his  _ own  _ ship. He might like pirates in theory, but he would never truly want to do the job, nor would he really like living there long-term. Erik couldn’t ask him to give all of that up, he couldn’t take him away from the world he knew, when they had just met.

He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach that yawned wider every time he thought about not seeing Charles again, about watching him grow smaller and smaller on the dock as the  _ Magneto  _ pulled away and Erik left him with his terrible family instead of on the sea, where he truly belonged.

He was being ridiculous, he reminded himself fiercely. Charles Xavier didn’t need his protection, regardless of whether or not he wanted to offer it.

********************************************

Charles didn’t get better throughout the day, but he didn’t get worse. His fever came and went, subduing his mood somewhat, but he continued being conversational with Erik and the crew as a whole. He fell asleep in his usual spot a few times against the mast, happily in the midst of the hustle and bustle. Erik worked with the crew, disciplined Allerdyce and Drake, consulted with his quartermaster on supplies they might need, all the things that normally filled his day but seemed rather useless and boring now, in the face of what was coming the day after.

That night, Erik returned outside to find Charles sitting on the rail again, watching the coast get closer. “Strange, that it looks so familiar,” he mused to Erik without turning to look at him. “I only saw it from this perspective once, and yet I’d still recognize it anywhere.”

Erik leaned against the railing, looking at it. He had been trying not to think about how close they were all day.  _ Ridiculous.  _ He was ridiculous. “Will it be nice, in a way, to go back? You said you had some friends you haven’t seen.”

“Hank and Raven,” he agreed, and leaned back against Erik slightly, pressing his shoulder into Erik’s and Erik smiled, relaxing a little and glad that they weren’t going to pretend last night hadn’t happened. “I imagine they’ve done something with themselves by now. She’ll have married wealthy and killed her husband or something, and Hank will have finished his apprenticeship and be doing something terribly impressive with his time. They may not even still live in the area. I haven’t gone back or sent word- I was too leery of being found.”

“Hm.” Erik rested his chin on top of Charles’ head, watching the flickering, shimmering lights in the distance. “And now you have been found.” Even he could hear how unhappy he sounded, so he tried for something lighter. “It’s quite a bounty on your head- I’m shocked that no one scooped you up sooner. It has to inflate your pride slightly that you’re worth that much. My  _ ship  _ isn’t even worth that much.”

He scowled at the water. “Indeed. It’s irritating, to say the least. I didn’t use my last name for a long time. Just went by Charles. It was fine while I was just a gunner or navigational worker. I’ve only been a captain for the last two years, and still primarily have left off my family name. The reward is my mother’s doing, no doubt. I have no siblings by blood, so I’m the heir to the entire fortune. She remarried after my father’s death, and Kurt came with a son, but… She’s far too proud to leave the title and estate to anyone but her own blood. Plus it’s probably a good portion of spite. She’s probably just been driven mad by the fact that I was finally out of her reach, living like a common sailor. She’d rather give away  _ that much money _ than know that’s where I was.” He shook his head.

“You are a mighty fine sailor.” Erik pressed his lips to the skin just behind Charles’ ear and sighed. “Unfortunately, true landsiders don’t see that as a good thing. Will it be bad, when you go home?” That almost painful sensation began again- the conflict of  _ I want to keep him  _ and  _ I promised my crew  _ warring in his stomach and tying it in knots.

“Erik.” Charles turned his head, catching Erik’s lips briefly with his own. “You’re being an alarmist again. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll take the money and you’ll move on. You’re a pirate, isn’t that what you do?” His smile was teasing.

_ That’s what I used to do.  _ Erik gave a small smile that he knew was probably unconvincing. For the first time in his life, he was uncertain if he wanted to do something that would earn him a profit. “I am a pirate,” he agreed quietly. “And not at all an alarmist.”

“A little bit of one. And a cynic, too.” Charles’ eyes sparkled and he leaned forward, kissing Erik slowly. “It’s going to be fine,” he breathed against his lips, curling a hand around the back of Erik’s neck as he shifted, sitting sideways and hooking his legs loosely around Erik. “Have some hope.”

“I’m a cynic,” Erik grumbled, kissing him back more fervently than his tone implied. “Why would I ever have hope when the cruel, dark world takes hope and crushes it under her heel?”

“Because the world brought us together.” Charles’ smile nearly glowed, lighting the darkness of Erik’s world like the moon did the waters around them. “Stop growling and do something better with your time. I have a few ideas, if you need them.” He grinned, turning his head and kissing Erik’s collarbone.

And Erik found himself quite unwillingly and yet effectively distracted from his thoughts.

********************************************

They had arrived before Erik even woke on the sixth day. Charles was dressed when he opened his eyes, and Charles leaned down, pressing their lips together for a long moment. “Hey,” he murmured. “Bobby knocked on the door-- we’re here. Are you taking the money yourself, or do you want Azazel to do it?”

Erik stared up at him, disoriented by waking and the suddenness of the timing. It wasn’t supposed to be this fast. He didn’t even have the morning with him. There was no more time to stall, no more time to struggle over the decision. They were  _ there _ already. It was about to be over. He was about to lose Charles, with only a few minutes of notice.

“I don’t want anyone to take the money,” Erik said, not sure of what he was even saying as he stared up into those beautiful blue eyes, but knowing it needed to be said. He had to be able to say that he had said it, at least once, that he’d tried. “I don’t want you to go.”

“What?” Charles laughed helplessly, resting his hands on Erik’s shoulders. “What are you talking about? You just spent a week getting me here.”

“We’re pulling up to the dock,” Azazel called through the door. “Get out here and let’s get moving!”

Erik took a deep breath and stood, looking away as he got dressed, trying very hard not to think about what they were doing. Charles glanced at him a few times, but didn’t say anything, eventually opening the door for them.

Erik caught his wrist, cursing himself, and Charles stopped, looking up at him in confusion and surprise. “Hey.” He met the blue gaze, hating himself for what they had to do. “I… hope you complete your maps. I’ll buy them when you do.”

Charles smiled, eyes crinkling up at him. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll send some off for you. Just leave them with all the fanciest ships so that when you pillage and plunder, you get surprise gifts.”

Erik tried to smile. “If you see my flag, make sure it’s me before you approach. There are others who use it.” He took a deep breath, not letting Charles go for a long moment, then, “I liked having you here.”

“I liked being here,” Charles volunteered softly, smiling up at him, and then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked onto the deck.

The town wasn’t huge, Erik noted, following him out and looking at the buildings spread out along the coastline. But it was clearly somewhat monied. Everything looked like it was in good condition even at this distance, and the largest house was sprawling and immense up on the hill.

“Guess which one’s my family’s,” Charles said dryly, bumping him with his shoulder. He crossed the deck, leaving Erik’s side, and glanced down at the dock, then took a deep breath. There was a small crowd of people clustered on the pier, all chattering quickly and nervously as they examined the pirate ship. At the front of the crowd was an elegantly-dressed woman with Charles’ dark hair, standing alongside a much taller man with thin lips. The taller man was holding a case.

“You got all your looks from your father’s side, apparently,” Erik said, scrutinizing them, especially the man, who he had to assume was Charles’ stepfather. The stepfather who had broken a twelve year old Charles’ hands for loving the sea and climbing the rigging.

_ They will burn her down if you take her anywhere near there. I swear to God, I will throw myself overboard or stab myself through the chest before I let you take her or my crew. _

Charles had been so fervent and angry at the thought that Erik might bring  _ Cerebras _ here with them. He hadn’t wanted his stepfather to be near the ship, hadn’t wanted him to have the chance to touch it, to burn it, to hurt it. The ship he loved so dearly… the ship that Erik had taken him from, and that Charles wanted so desperately to return to. It left an acrid taste at the back of Erik’s throat.

“Yeah, he looked much more like me.” Charles took a deep breath. “I’ll climb down. Pretend to aim a gun at me or something so they actually hand over the money, I can toss the case up here so no one has to risk being down there. It would be quite a mess if someone was down there who tried to arrest you. Doubt they would, though. They’ve always been cowards.” He chuckled, glancing up at Erik, who felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a semblance of a smile. This was wrong. This wasn’t the way it should happen.

“Azazel is much more intimidating than I am,” he said, his voice coming out softer than he meant it to. Honestly, though, he couldn’t imagine actually aiming a live gun at Charles, not even for this. “He could do the job admirably.”

“Noted… Although I find you wonderfully intimidating.” Charles caught his hand, bringing it up and brushing his lips very briefly against his knuckles, and then he released him. Azazel appeared as if from thin air, gestured, and led Charles to the side of the ship. He  _ did _ , in fact, do an admirable job of appearing threatening. Charles, for his part, assumed an arrogant and haughty sort of air, shooting Azazel a look of anger as he climbed down the ladder to the dock.

Charles crossed to his family as Azazel aimed his pistol at him, tracking the cartographer’s progress down the dock. Charles’ stepfather placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling pleasantly at him, and Charles took the case without a word, carrying it back to the end of the dock. He met Erik’s face, searching it and offering a small smile, then threw the case up. Darwin caught it deftly and nodded, and Azazel retracted his gun.

Charles met Erik’s eyes one last time, then turned on his heel and vanished into the crowd, his stepfather’s hand returning to his shoulder and remaining there as they escorted him off the dock.

And Erik felt the pit in his stomach yawn widen as he closed his hands around the banister.

* * *

Charles didn’t look back at Erik again. He wasn’t fully sure that he could. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t sprint, undignified and pathetic, grab onto him, and beg him to take Charles with him. Piracy wasn’t so bad, perhaps. It was still on the water. Still away from these people and this place. And it would have Erik there.

He’d known that it was a terrible idea from the beginning. That allowing himself to be attracted to the most beautiful man he’d ever seen meant that he would be getting attached. He was  _ attached  _ to a  _ pirate captain holding him for ransom _ . He’d been right-- it was a terrible idea. At the end of it all, he was emotionally invested in a man he’d only known for a week, a man who’d given him more pleasure than any he’d ever met, and a man who’d just sold him back to his family.

He didn’t blame him, truly. He had told him it was fine, and it was. Charles would be gone by morning, would get himself passage on the first ship he encountered. There truly was no harm, no foul. His family would lose money that they hadn’t deserved in the first place, Erik would have enough money to perhaps buy a new ship, and everything would be fine. Honestly, it was why he’d kept the ring in the first place-- to pull this exact scheme on his family with Alex in Erik’s place if they ever hit a particularly hard spot and needed the money to live.

But he wasn’t supposed to be halfway in love with the person handing him over. It wasn’t supposed to hurt as he walked away.

_ You knew better than to give in _ , he reminded himself as a butler held the door to the manor open. Charles was barely inside, the door swinging shut behind him, before his mother slapped him hard across the face. He withheld his wince as he met her eyes, and she stared at him, fuming.

“Do you have  _ any _ idea the kind of dishonor you have brought this family?” she breathed, voice trembling with rage. “ _ My _ son, Charles Xavier,  _ running away from home _ to become a filthy, common, low-bred sailor. Do you have any idea what people said?! We had to tell them you went missing! We had to say that we hoped you were still alive, that you were taken against your will!”

“How terrible for you,” Charles drawled, moving away from her. The house already felt like a cage, the walls too steady, the floor uncomfortably still under his feet. His steps weren’t quite even as he walked; he hadn’t gotten his land legs back yet. He crossed into the dining room to the right of the foyer and glanced out the window. He could see the water from here, but he couldn’t see the  _ Magneto. _ Either it was still docked, or it had left quickly enough that he hadn’t been able to catch it leaving in time.

He hoped for the former. He wanted to be able to watch it sail away, wanted to imagine himself on board.

“You know I’m not going to stay here.” He said the words absently, watching the glitter of the ocean in the sunlight. “Surely you know that. Why would you even try to bring me back? I’ve never had any interest in this life. Politics and parties are  _ fine _ , even well and good, but it’s never been what I wanted.”

“You’ll be staying here,” Kurt disagreed, voice as ugly and dark as the bruises he’d left on Charles’ arms when he was young. Charles was pleased to find that this didn’t frighten him, didn’t even send a ripple of unease through his system.

_ My ship was attacked and I’ve been kidnapped by pirates this week _ , he refrained from saying.  _ You’re cruel, but you’ve lost your edge comparatively. _

“I won’t,” he said instead. “Tie me up, I’ll get free. Even if it takes a couple days, I’ll be out on the tide before you know it. You can’t- I’m sorry, what the  _ fuck  _ are you doing?” He recoiled as arms wrapped around him from behind, crushing him back against a large and muscular chest with his arms trapped at his sides. The laugh that came from behind him shook him slightly.  _ Cain _ , Charles identified, and aimed a kick, squirming sideways to try to escape the bear-hug he was being held in. Cain squeezed harder, compressing his ribs, and Charles found himself out of breath, light-headed, and weaker than he should have been.

Maybe the fever wasn’t entirely gone after all. His vision swam slightly and he struggled to catch his balance as Cain held him up and backwards slightly, so that his feet couldn’t quite touch the ground.

“I’ve no doubt that you would be gone as soon as you could. But that’s not going to be the case this time,” Kurt agreed, and Sharon Xavier shook her head, looking away.

“Deal with him, I’ve got to get a drink.” And, as she always had, she left them alone.

“It’ll be awfully hard to run down to the dock and book a passage when you aren’t able to walk, won’t it?” He walked forward as Charles stared at him, then began fighting harder.

“Get off of me,” he snarled at Cain, trying to free his arms and trying to land a backwards kick. “Get the hell away from me, you’re all insane. I’m not letting you-”

Cain turned, smashing Charles’ skull against the windowsill, and the world pulsed strangely, doubling and blurring a little as Kurt sighed.

“You’ll have to be on bed rest for a while. Possibly for forever, poor thing.” Kurt’s face was a mockery of sympathy. “It’s terrible, that the pirates would do that to a prisoner’s legs, but… well, it’s not unexpected, is it? And they’re brutal, it wouldn’t surprise anyone that the legs never  _ really _ healed afterwards. But don’t worry, you’ll still be able to use your position as Lord of Westchester to collect taxes, trades, vote… All the important intricacies of life, you know? Your seafaring days are just over.”

“No! Get off me, get  _ away _ from me!” Charles aimed a kick at Kurt’s chest, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to map out escape patterns through the throbbing in his head. He needed Cain to let him go, and then he could run for the docks. There were three windows in this room and the front door wasn’t far off. If he got out, he could sprint, he could hide or just make a beeline for the water. He could  _ swim for it _ , anything was better than this, anything was better than the idea of being bed-bound and trapped here, reliant on them for the rest of his life, never setting foot on a ship again--

Kurt stepped hard on Charles’ foot as the kick missed, holding it to the ground so that his leg was held out at a diagonal, and smiled at his stepson. “Stop struggling,” he ordered, and raised his other foot to smash down across Charles’ shin.

An incredibly loud bang filled the room, accompanied by gun smoke, and Charles looked around sharply to see Erik in the doorway, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing, wearing his coat and hat and looking every bit the pirate he was, with Azazel and Darwin behind him.

Charles tried to process through the panicked adrenaline starting to wind down, through the blood dripping down his cheek from the place he’d been bashed against the edge of the sill. Erik was here. Why was Erik here, why would he come back? He already had the money.

Granted, there was plenty to be looted from the house, but that couldn’t be it.

Kurt hit the ground and Erik cocked his gun again. “Let Charles go,” he said calmly, leveling it with what Charles could only assume was Cain’s face, considering he couldn’t see. “Or I’ll put a shell in your skull.”

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” Cain, who had simply decided not to go down to the dock, had not seen any of the people Charles had been living with, and was too stupid to recognize a pirate when he saw one, apparently. He shifted sharply, using Charles as a shield, and backed up a step.

“I’m a pirate, mate,” Erik said, giving him the shark-smile that Charles secretly found so attractive. “Let him go, or you will get an extra hole in your head. I am an excellent shot and the boy is half your size. Good luck guessing where I’m aiming.”

Cain was silent for a moment, clearly struggling with the decision, then dropped Charles. Charles hadn’t quite been expecting to be completely released and staggered, barely catching himself with the wall. Darwin took a small step toward him, then stopped, looking at Erik and Azazel for permission. Erik gestured for him to get Charles and Darwin moved him quickly back with Azazel and Erik.

“What do you want?” Cain snapped, sparing the briefest of glances at his father.

“Charles?” Erik tilted his head, keeping his gun on Cain’s chest. “What do you think? Head, stomach, or heart?”

“I don’t believe in killing,” Charles said with a weak laugh, raising a hand to touch the gash on his head. Darwin helpfully offered him a handkerchief, which he pressed carefully to the injury. Cain glowered at them, but said nothing, holding his hands up with clear reluctance.

“I do.” Erik watched Cain for a long, tense moment, then wiggled his gun. “I want your money. You don’t deserve to be let off for free, you piece of shit. Whatever is in your pockets and your little safebox. Get it for me, be a good boy.”

Cain snarled an insult that Charles didn’t quite catch, but cast another glance at his father’s body and vanished from the room. “You know he’s going to come back with a weapon,” Charles murmured, keeping his feet and balance through sheer will. “Why did you come back?”

“Go with him,” Erik ordered Darwin and Azazel, who vanished. Erik moved forward, tilting Charles’ face up carefully. “What are you talking about, why did I come back? Why do you  _ think  _ I came back? For you.” He covered Charles’ hand with his, putting pressure on his head to help stop the flow of blood. “Do you really think I would give you back to them and leave you here alone?”

“I don’t know. You’re a pirate.” Charles focused on his eyes, leaning into him very slightly. “You’re not exactly known for emotional attachments. I… I don’t know, you probably enjoy all your captives.” He offered a smile.

Erik snorted and leaned forward, kissing him gently. “You are the first  _ captive  _ that I have ever  _ enjoyed _ , and I most certainly did enjoy you, on that note. But I don’t actually take advantage of my prisoners, as a general rule.” Erik gave a small smile, a little uncertain and unsure of himself. “I told you this morning I didn’t want you to go. That was the truth.”

Charles’ smile felt like it was splitting his face in half. “And if I stuck around for a while? Left  _ Cerebras _ in Alex’s care for just a bit?” He would absolutely miss his ship. He’d promised to sink with her, if it ever came to that. But they couldn’t have  _ two _ ships, and Erik was no doubt extremely attached to his own. Alex would protect  _ Cerebras. _ He would make an excellent captain.

Erik shrugged. “See, here’s the thing, Charles. I don’t know. I’ve seen your crew, and even under this Alex _ ,  _ I don’t think that would work. You’d come back to your precious ship in pieces. My thought was,” he continued, twirling one of Charles’ curls around his finger, “That I could maybe come on as your crew’s pirate expert and trainer. You have no idea how to fight pirates. It took us less than twenty minutes to have you all on the deck, tied up like little fishes.”

“It took me at least an extra five,” Charles protested, but there was a sensation not quite unlike euphoria spreading through him. “What about  _ Magneto _ and Azazel? You love your crew.”

“I do,” he agreed. “Azazel deserves to be his own captain. He has served under me for six years, and he is an incredible man. He deserves to make his own choices and run his own ship. He informed me that he will, on occasion, pillage our ship and steal resources and maps and things.” Erik grinned a little. “He is still a pirate, after all.”

_ Our ship _ . Charles grinned up at him and pulled him down for a kiss.

* * *

* * *

Charles Xavier had wanted to be on the ocean as far back as he could remember. As he grew older, his attention never shifted from the prospect of living life on the seas. He devoted his life to it and never wavered. 

By eight, he was sneaking off after dark to run down the pier, whispering the names of the boats as he passed each one. 

At ten, he had started hiding away coins and cash, making a small bank with which he could someday purchase his own vessel. 

At thirteen, he was stealing away, maps and manuscripts tucked under slender arms as he darted away from his estate and down to the docks.

At fifteen, he was bribing the sailors after educational lessons with Bernard, his schoolmaster, had ended. 

At seventeen, he ran away. He gave Raven, his favorite waitress at the dock bar a kiss on the cheek before he left, and kissed Hank, his favorite dockworker, on the lips.

At nineteen years of age, Charles was awarded the position of First Mate on  _ The Cerebras _ . 

At twenty years of age, Charles’ captain earned a place under a different contract and allowed Charles to take the title of captain instead. 

At twenty-one years of age, Charles and his ship had its first run-in with pirates, and he saw fit to protect his title and vessel as fiercely as he knew how.

And, at twenty-three years of age, Charles Xavier married a pirate under a full moon, with two dozen pirates and two dozen sailors in attendance aboard the ship he loved so fiercely.

And that was just the first twenty-three years of his life.

  
  
  
  



End file.
